Fading Flavors
by explodingduck
Summary: But then, suddenly, everything – their teasing relationship, the comfortably hectic and 18 hour long days of work, the late nights in the bullpen - suddenly, it all changed, and it was all because of a case gone horribly, horribly wrong.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Caitlin Todd is one of the best characters ever created. And the UST of Kibbs is just... yummy. **  
**Here's an angsty (at least to begin with) story about Kate, Gibbs and the entire team at NCIS as they try to navigate their way through the mess that is a case gone horribly, horribly wrong. Kate gets kidnapped. I have not yet decided if Ziva shall be included in this story. (Her character is pretty great too though...) **

**Here's the first chapter. The part in italics is supposed to be a kind of flashback, and the rest is in present time. As you will notice, the story itself takes place after the kidnapping; there will, however, be myriads of flashbacks.**

**Oh, and reviews are what keep me writing so please do not hesitate to leave feedback. Thank you.**

_Chapter 1_

* * *

_Someone spits on her naked back but she doesn't react. Someone grabs her hair and pulls hard but she doesn't scream out in pain. Someone chains her to the headboard, and she lets them._

Her eyes are dark and still, a deep contrast to the milky white of her skin. There are scars of humiliation on her back, her lips are dry and broken, and there's blood on her arm. She cannot speak for there are no words. She lies in the hospital bed and tries to find herself, tries to locate the whereabouts of her soul, but she cannot find it. She repeats the words he used to say and tries to find some comfort in them, but they sound foreign to her ears. The world she grew up in is not the same; the landscape has changed into something she cannot identify. The rules have changed, she knows they have, because what she has gone through simply cannot fit into the innocence and naiveté of her previous life. Her new, scarred life begins in this hospital bed.

"Kate," comes a voice from somewhere to her right and her eyes quickly focus on him. The room is dark and he's sitting on a chair by the window, looking at her. She doesn't say anything, doesn't dare open her mouth, because she knows that the moment she does, she will start screaming. Her eyes focus on his facial features and try to read him. Is he angry? Sad? She sighs. She doesn't know him anymore. This new person that she suddenly has become doesn't know him the way the old Kate would and maybe that's the biggest sign of them all that she should just die now. She closes her eyes.

"Look at me." he says softly with an undertone of authority, but it doesn't affect her the way it used to. She does look up at him, but not because he ordered her to; she figures there's nothing else to do. Their eyes lock, ice against darkness. Footsteps echo through the hall outside the room and she can smell the smell of hospital all around her. As she focuses on the smells and sounds around her, her eyes stray away from his and search the room. Except for the chair he's currently sitting on, the room is pale and empty. She can feel his eyes on her, trying to reach her, get her attention, but it feels weird to be seen and she shies away from him. After days of loneliness and silence and... other things, this is too unfamiliar. Right in this moment, he is looking at her with love, and the former her would have looked back and smiled at this rare display of affection, but the new and broken her doesn't know what love is.

"Stop looking at me." she says through clenched teeth and she doesn't recognise her own voice.

He doesn't do as she says and it doesn't surprise her. Firstly, he is her boss. Secondly, it isn't in his nature to obey people. She sighs and looks down at her hands, trying to ignore his stare. There are marks of struggle on her slender fingers and the manicure she got last week is no where in sight. She wonders how long it's been. Two weeks? Three weeks? She suddenly remembers that she forgot to turn off the TV that morning and curses out loud at the thought of how much it is going to cost her.

"What day is it?" she asks him and decides to look him in the eye. He might choose to ignore her if she doesn't. Her eyes meet his and she almost shivers at how much they shine.

"Thursday." he deadpans without breaking the intense stare. She attempts to count how many days she was trapped but her brain won't cooperate and she frowns.

"A week." he tells her, reading her expression and her face falls._ A week?_ Her mind screams inside her aching head. It had felt like two months. She feels like crying and running and hiding from him and the rest of this new reality that she's going to have to face, and attempts to get out of the bed, to somehow show him that she's strong and not this weak little woman she must look like.

She limps across the room in search for some kind of bathroom and quickly finds a door with the words WC written on it. She opens the door and hurries inside without looking at him. She wonders what her reflection will look like, wonders if she looks like a monster now. She wonders if the beauty that some of her previous boyfriends lovingly claimed she carries in her is gone, if all that is left is a bitter glint in the depths of her dark eyes. She wants to turn around in the small bathroom and look into the mirror but she's too afraid of what she might find; she's too afraid of what Gibbs might have seen. She washes her hands, eyes focused on her broken and dry nails. She feels dirty, she realises, as she starts cleaning the dried blood from underneath her nails, one of the few spots that the nurses must have missed. The feeling of impurity increases and, panicking, she accidentally looks away from her hands and into the mirror. She actually screams at the sight of the woman staring back at her, but the sound that leaves her lips only sounds like a disturbingly weak echo of her former self, and she quickly turns around, feeling the panic pressing on her lungs. She needs to get out of these clothes now. _Now_. She quickly unties the knot of the white and thin hospital robe, and it soundlessly falls to the cold floor. Next off is the white shirt, then the way too big pants and lastly the socks. Soon she's in the nude, but she barely reflects on it, barely registers the fact that her boss is about five metres away, the only thing stopping him from seeing her being the thin and not so sound-proof wall. He must have heard her accidental scream, she realises. But her emotional health is way too damaged to actually understand that she should be embarrassed. She stares at herself in the mirror, examines the scars and bruises with trained and professional eyes, managing to identify each mark with each hit, managing to identify the age of the marks, the pressure, the objects with which she was hit. She trails her fingers down her legs, the feeling of hair only increasing this feeling of dirt and disgust, and soon she is in the shower, the hot water burning her skin, leaving it red and irritated albeit clean. She sighs and turns up the temperature, needing the pain of the almost boiling water, aching for something to take away the much deeper and profound ache that is beginning to fill up her lungs, her heart, her mind. She closes her eyes and reaches for the soap that she somehow and apparently must have noticed while entering the shower, even in this messy state. As the smell of the soap reaches her nose it doesn't bother her when she realises that it must be the soap of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs and she's too tired to understand or question how the rich and spicy musk of him made its way into the flask in her hospital bathroom.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Hi y'all! Time for chapter 2! Thanks for the lovely reviews and keep'em coming!_

* * *

_CHAPTER 2_

She does not know for how long she's been in the shower but her skin is red and irritated, and she can feel her entire body boiling. A knock on the door forces her to open her eyes and she stills under the spray of water. She doesn't say anything and she doesn't move.

"Kate," says his voice for the second time since she woke up and she closes her eyes again. The water is still running and she has no idea what he expects of her. Maybe he's checking up on her and making sure she hasn't tried to do something rash, maybe he's being her boss, but why can't he leave her the hell alone? She turns off the water and sighs. Stepping out of the shower, she realises that she doesn't have a towel but she soon finds one; it's a white, fluffy thing and it smoothly and gently carresses her fragile body and skin. She's aware of the fact that she ignored him but thinks maybe he got an answer when the shower was turned off. _Yes, Gibbs, I'm still breathing._

When she's relatively dry she wraps the towel around her body and, without glancing at the mirror, opens the door to the outside world. The cold air sends a shiver through her body but it isn't uncomfortable; it soothes her in a way to know that the primal functioning of her body still works. She looks up and finds him staring at her. He is standing up now, leaning against the wall, the faint light of sunrise illuminating his silver hair and blue eyes. He's wearing jeans and a dark coat and the simplicity of the image before her frightens her a little. The presence of him overwhelms the room and floods through the air. Slowly do her eyes try to reach for his but she suddenly realises that he's not actually looking at her face. His eyes are travelling up and down the length of her body. The towel covers her chest down to mid thigh; she realises that she must be displaying quite a few... bruises. And although the thought of him seeing her like this horrifies her, she cannot avoid the spotlight he's pointing at her. She cannot move away from the attention that she used to crave because somehow, she realises, she still craves it. And this can't simply be a scene in which a boss looks at his subordinate, no, this is something different, something heavier and way more personal. His gaze is not unaffected and it's not fleeting. Slowly and thoroughly do his eyes make their way up and down her body, finding every detail and every mark, every curve of light skin and every piece of skin that is not hidden by the towel. He does not move from his position by the wall and neither does she move from where she is standing. They're on opposite sides of the room and yet it doesn't feel that way. He's too... close. If he moved and tried to approach her she would hit him.

"Get dressed," he orders, his lips barely moving. There is a bag by his feet and she knows it contains clothes. She wonders who packed it; she guesses it may have been Abby because no one in their right mind, and who knows hers and Tony's relationship, would ever willingly let Tony DiNozzo into her apartment. Or perhaps it was Gibbs. She can feel water dripping down her back onto the floor and she shivers. In a flash of motion she has darted across the room and back into the bathroom, bag in hand. She pulls out the different garments someone packed for her and doesn't bother to look at the clothes as she gets dressed. They feel comfortable and smell like home and security, and she breathes in the familiar scent of them. She finds a toothbrush and decides to brush her teeth. When she exits the bathroom, the sun has made its way above the horisontal line of the city, and she stares at Gibbs who still hasn't moved from his earlier position leaning against the wall. There is strength in his eyes but his face is soft and gentle when bathed in the light of the morning sun. She looks at him, hands on her hips. She tries to ignore the slight pain that soars through her muscles when touching them.

"Gibbs," she says with a clear and stable voice.

"Kate," he answers and moves towards her with slow and secure steps. He doesn't stop until he's inches from her. Their chests are nearly touching and she can feel her own heart beat. She stares down at her bare feet because she's too afraid to look him in the eye. She's a coward. She can smell him and almost feel the warmth radiating off of his skin but it doesn't comfort her.

"I'm alive," she whispers and the words feel intimate and unneccessary and perfectly _right_.

"You're alive," he repeats after her, voice barely audible, and suddenly his right hand is on her chin, forcing her to lift her head and meet his eyes. His eyes sparkle with emotion but she's too tired to pick apart the different feelings in them. She just stares up at him and hopes that he'll understand all the things she will never be able to say, all the feelings that are slowly trying to destroy her insides; she hopes he'll read the words she doesn't dare vocalising in the depths of her dark eyes. She gives him five more seconds of her own vulnerability before her defences force her to look away. She can feel him breathing and wonders what he's thinking. His hand drops from her chin and he steps away from her.

"You're alive," he repeats and she can hear the relief in his voice. She smirks at him and her face is dripping with the sarcasm that is trying to hide away her true feelings.

"D'you miss me?" she says and takes a step closer to him, feeling dangerous and reckless and angry and relieved.

He doesn't answer, just looks down at her with an unreadable expression in his eyes. She looks at him in disbelief and frowns at his incapability to vocalise his thoughts. She tries to understand him, tries to find some kind of sign of care and love in the few words he has said so far but she cannot find any. It's impossible to grasp what he is refusing to give her and she feels the taste of disappointment in her mouth as she swallows loudly.

As her eyes darken, he steps closer to her and kisses her forhead. She only has time to register the gentle and swift touch of his lips to her skin before he takes a step back, turns around and exists the room, leaving her with an emotional mess of confusion and anger and surprise to occupty her empty thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Bonjour! Sorry for taking so long but I've been in France for the past two weeks. Paris is... incredible. Please, if you can, take time to leave a review. I present to you, dear reader... chapter 3._

* * *

The day is remarkably warm for being March; the birds are singing melodies of freedom and the trees are swaying gently with the light breeze that makes its way through the crowded park. There are children playing with each other in the giant play park as their mothers sit on the benches surrounding it, trying to soak up as much sun as possible. Men in suits and polished shoes make their way through the park, probably headed to eat lunch at one of the many restaurants that are situated in the area. The park is buzzing with energy and signs of life, and the gentle and warm fingers of spring are slowly wrapping themselves around the city, painting away the silence of winter. However, in the midst of all the children and mothers and fathers and business men, there is a lone bench on which a woman is seated. Dressed in a white coat and black, stylish sunglasses she seems slightly out of place in the disorder of the playing children, and every few minutes the father of one of the children sends her a curious look. The woman on the bench does not acknowledge anyone around her, she just sits there staring ahead of her, silent and still. It almost looks as if she is a part of the park itself, as if she is a statue made to be sitting on that bench, an ever-lasting piece of stillness in the mess that is the everyday life of the park.

However, a man with silver hair and piercing blue eyes, and dressed in a dark winter coat soon takes a seat next to her, and from the way she her spine becomes slightly stiffer than before it is apparent that she knows him.

Behind those dark sunglasses, Kate is fuming with anger. Not that any one can actually see the darkness that is the colour of her eyes and, at the moment, mind. They sit in silence for a while, simply inhaling the fresh air of spring. She refuses to be the first one to speak; he had been the one to ban her from the office (or actually, that had been director Morrow, but she still insistently blamed Gibbs), so why on earth was he here only hours after throwing her out? After having been released from the hospital, she had gone to work the following day - only to find that she was no longer welcome. She had been ordered to stay home and recover for at least a week before even thinking of coming back to work. Suddenly, she snaps and turns to look at him, only to find that he isn't even looking at her. His blue eyes are focused on the playing children and a slight smile is gracing his lips. The intense urge to wipe that smile away floods through her veins and she frowns angrily.

"_Gibbs_." she says through clenched teeth and looks at him from behind her sunglasses.

Slowly does his head turn, and he looks at her with that small smile, eyes glittering with playfulness. Kate's insides are screaming. How dare he _smile_? She tries to swallow down the anger, but fails miserably.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asks, shifting closer to him, despite her frustration with him.

At this, he simply smiles a little wider, as if actually amused by her state of mind, and stands up before her, offering her his hand. "Taking you to lunch, Kate." he says quietly as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. Kate's eyes wander from his face to his hand and she takes a moment to decide whether to be a bitch or not. She looks at his face again and studies the lines and skin and how beautiful he is when bathed in the modest sunlight of early spring. The sunglasses hide away the softness that is suddenly colouring her eyes, and she feels grateful for it. _He's a bastard_, she reminds herself. Nonetheless, three seconds later, she takes his hand and stands up. As soon she is on her feet, he lets go of her hand.

"Why?" she asks as they begin to make their way through the park.

"To talk." he answers simply, and she feels a sudden rush in her abdomen.

"About what?" she asks nervously, peering at him from where she is walking next to him. This is unexplored territory for both of them and Kate is frantically trying to understand what on earth they are supposed to talk about. She has a nagging suspicion of what his true intentions might be, but she quickly dismisses the thought.

After ten minutes of walking down the wide and busy street, they reach their destination: a small Italian café that serves mostly sandwhiches and coffee, and Kate rolls her eyes when he orders a triple espresso each to sip at.

"Is this your idea of lunch?" she asks incredulously as they sit down at one of the tables.

"Yup." he answers, and she cannot help but give him a small laugh.

"Should've figured," she says as she lifts the cup to her lips and savours the bitterness of the almost inhumanly strong coffee.

She pretends not to notice how his intense gaze follows her every move, because whenever she does take notice of it, it leaves her with an unhealthy dose of self-conciousness to dwell upon. She licks her lips slowly, puts down the cup on the table and leans slightly forward, eyes finally meeting his.  
He says nothing, just looks at her with that mix of half-hearted curiosity and intensity that sometimes fills his eyes. He takes a sip of his own coffee, his eyes never leaving her face.

"Gibbs." she says with an inquiring tone and leans forward in order to hear him over the chattering of voices that echoes off the walls of the tiny café. "You wanted to talk." The anger and frustration she felt earlier in the park seems to have been washed down her throat along with the strong coffee. She looks at him with big eyes, feeling a little nervous about the proximity of the situation. However, her curiosity by far outweighs her nervousness. Gibbs, on the other hand, seems to be at loss for words for he does not say a thing.

"What?" she she says with an exasperated wave of her hand. "You wanted to talk," she looks him steadily in the eye. "Talk." she says, and it feels weird to order _Gibbs_ around. But he isn't doing anything productive, and she didn't come here with him to have him sit and _look_ at her all day. At her words, he seems to snap out of whatever trail of thought that had been occupying his mind, and he leans back in his chair.

"You're not allowed to work for another week," he throws the sentence into the air between them and she wonders if she is supposed to answer.

"Um... okay?" she says.

He leans forward, invading her space from across the table, until he is close enough for her to count the small wrinkles underneath his eyes. She stares at him in awe, mouth slightly open, at loss for words, with no idea of what his next move might be. He keeps his eyes locked with hers and takes a sip of his coffee. The air around them changes, and she leans forward to meet him halfway.

"Take the week off." he says, his tone authoritative and demanding.

"Why?" she spits back at him, feeling her temper rise quickly. Their faces are close, and she cannot help but wonder what the picture they present might look like to the other guests around them.

"You know why." he says, his voice strong and cold, any trails of a smile having left his face.

"Oh," she says sarcastically and raises an eyebrow. "Of course," she continues, "Doing absolutely nothing will make me feel _so_ much better."

He doesn't move and doesn't say anything, and she feels herself beginning to slip.

"What I need..." she begins and looks frantically around the room, avoiding his eyes, feeling uncomfortable and exploited and desperate. "What I need is..." she fiddles with her cup. "Work. I need work." she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.

"You think you know something," she says out of the blue, but Gibbs does not stop her and the words flow freely from her mouth: "You think you know what life is and what it has in store for you...You think you know what pain is. I thought I knew it all. I thought... I thought...," she pauses and sits in silence for one second, two seconds-  
"I knew nothing." she whispers. "Do you know..." she continues, opening her eyes and focusing them on his serious face of stone. "Gibbs," she breathes and leans forward even more. "Do you know the feeling of humiliation?" she gives him two seconds and then she interrupts him before he even gets a chance to answer. She laughs bitterly at him, her voice lower and darker than she has ever heard it. "Of course you do." she sighs. "You know everything." She, once again, closes her eyes. After a few minutes, his cellphone rings, and her eyes snap open at the sound of it.  
"Gibbs." he grunts and hangs up after fifteen seconds. He takes a moment to study her face, eyes as unreadable as ever, but there is a softness to him that usually isn't there. She stares back at him boldly, refusing to show any signs of weakness or embarrassment at her sudden outburst of emotion.

He stands up, and she looks up at him with a puzzled expression on her face. He heads for the door and motions for her to follow him. As they exit the café she finally rediscovers her ability to speak;

"Where are we going?" she mumbles as he leads the way down the busy pavement.

He smiles a smile that is barely there and quickens his pace.

"We've got a case."

* * *

_Should I continue this? _


	4. Chapter 4

"Caitlin Todd." the woman before her says, and Kate's eyes snap up to look at her. Light brown hair, shoulder length, small glasses perched on the tip of her nose; blue cardigan, white blouse, dark jeans. She realises that maybe she is supposed to answer, and she clears her throat.

"Yes."

The woman gives her a smile full of professional sympathy, and Kate stares back as her mind quickly and without hesitation surveys the room and analyses the shapes, furniture and ways to exit.  
The woman, Dr Holmes, gives her a friendly look before scribbling something on the piece of paper before her. Kate tries to feel curious but finds she doesn't have enough energy to wonder what the woman just wrote. Dr Holmes does not speak but simply stares at Kate in interest with clear and open eyes. Kate frowns slightly and looks down at the hands that are folded in her lap. Is she supposed to say something? She wonders how she is supposed to make it through these sessions with Dr Holmes when she can barely breathe at the mere thought of... _it_. She holds her breath for ten seconds, counting them in her mind, and then lets out a soft breath. _Focus, Kate,_ she tells herself. When she opens her eyes again, the doctor is still staring at her with the same alert expression on her face. Kate already hates her, and she is willing to sit in silence for the next 40 minutes if it means she won't have to speak to this Dr Holmes. The woman seems too... happy. Kate doesn't want this fake empathy and she doesn't want to get help to recover from someone who gets _paid _for it.

"Agent Todd." Dr Holmes says. Kate looks at her, eyes empty.

"Yes, Dr Holmes." she answers politely.

"Either... you make this easy," the doctor pauses and Kate purses her lips in annoyance, "or you... make this difficult. Nevertheless," the doctor leans forward slightly and smiles. "You have to do it. It is necessary for your continued work at NCIS, and you know that."

Kate closes her eyes and frowns, and then opens them again. The doctor is right, of course, Kate knows that. But what Kate doesn't know is exactly what she is supposed to do whilst sitting in this chair, in this small office, speaking to the woman across the small table. What is she supposed to say? How can she be expected to tell all of this to a _stranger_? How much is she supposed to say?

"I drank a cup of coffee today." Kate says and gives the woman a cold smile.

There is a flash of surprise in the woman's eyes, but then she smiles.

"Okay. Go on," she says and starts taking notes. Kate looks at the woman with distaste but continues:

"Well..." Kate pretends to think for a second, "I forgot that it was boiling hot and drank it. Burnt my tongue." she says and looks at the woman with big, innocent eyes. "Don't you hate it when you burn your tongue, Doctor Holmes?"

Dr Holmes looks like she isn't sure what to say.

"Um... yeah." the doctor looks at Kate with uncertain eyes.

"Coffee's a drug." Kate says, and looks away from the eyes of the doctor. "And..." she pauses, and decides to stop playing this stupid, childish and meaningless game, to stop acting like Tony would (although Tony would probably try to seduce the woman), and get serious. The sooner she starts speaking, the sooner they will declare her well enough to start working again. The room is quiet and the sky outside the window is grey, casting a shadowy light on every piece of furniture in the small room.

"They drugged me."

Dr Holmes starts scribbling frantically on the piece of paper as she nods with renewed enthusiasm.

"They?"

Kate ignores her.

"Have you ever taken drugs?" she asks, and Dr. Holmes looks up from her intense scribbling, shock evident on her small face.

"I can't tell you that." the doctor says seriously, and Kate nods. Dr Holmes looks out the window and bites her lip, lost in thought.

Kate stares at the doctor and wonders for how long the woman before her was an addict.

* * *

It is late, and Kate is restlessly watching TV, refusing to go to bed. Her apartment has turned dark and everything is bathed in shadow, but Kate hasn't bothered to turn on any lights. It is not as if she needs any light to be able _think_. She wishes it were that simple; she wishes she could decide to turn off her thoughts, if only for a while, to give her mind a break from the thoughts that creep into her brain every few minutes. Flashes of images distract her from paying attention to the TV, and she is blankly staring at a spot on the wall where a painting used to hang. She has no idea where the painting is, but she doesn't find any energy to care. She shivers at the thought, at the feeling of fatigue that never seems to leave her anymore, and gets up from her hunched position on the floor. The couch behind her hasn't been touched since she got home. She enters the kitchen, having decided to make a cup of tea. Anything but sleep, anything but dreams, anything but revisiting anything that has to do with the last three weeks, she thinks to herself whilst taking out a cup and some organic green tea – her favourite – but a knock on the door stops her in her tracks. She looks at the digital clock above the oven and realises it's after two in the morning. Who the hell..?- a second knock urges her to go look who it is.  
She opens the door, gun ready in her left hand, and is met by the sight of Jethro Gibbs. She doesn't smile, but simply sighs.

"Checking up on me?" she asks quietly and stands in the doorway, blocking his way inside the apartment.

"Yep." he doesn't smile either and he takes a simple step towards her. His proximity leaves her with a strange feeling in her stomach, and her limbs go slightly weak. She manages to hold her ground, and not let him inside just yet. It's dark around them and she can barely see him, but he is standing close to her, their feet planted on either side of the narrow threshold.

"Well, look, I'm fine, you can go." she makes a vague gesture with her right hand, as if to prove her point. It seems as if Gibbs is about to answer, but then he changes his mind. He stands before her, looking down at her with that silent intensity radiating off of him. She looks up at him as she stands there, dressed in a small pair of shorts and a small T-shirt, gun in her left hand and her right hand planted on her hip. They are silent, trying to calculate the next move the other might make. His smooth and low voice breaks the silence with a soft vibration that travels through the air and barely reaches her ears:

"Why are you making this so difficult, Kate?"

Kate's eyes grow hard and cold, and she stares at him in shock as all reason disappears from her confused brain and takes everything logical with it. She almost snarles, and two seconds later, she is pinning him against the wall outside her door, his left cheek pressed against it, arms twisted behind his back. She holds onto his arms, and presses harder, feeling the rage, the hurt, and the confusion fill her up. She rejoices at the feeling of power that suddenly rushes through her body.

"You think I am making this difficult, Gibbs? Is that what you're saying?" She growls.

"Let me go." he breathes, but she refuses to hear him.

"Is that it? Is this my fault? Who the _hell_ do you think you are?" she shouts into his ear, hoping to break his eardrum because at least _that_ would make him pay. She doesn't find the logic to realise how irrationally she is behaving at the moment.

"No, Kate." he replys softly, probably trying to calm her, but it only enrages her further.

"Then what the fuck are you trying to say Gibbs?" He doesn't answer, and when the only thing she can hear is their heavy breathing echoing in the silence of a sleeping apartment building, that is when she finds herself again. She releases him quickly, feeling the sweat cover her forehead. She takes a step back.

"I'm sorry." she mumbles, refusing to look him in the eye. She turns around to enter her apartment again, as he straightens his back and stretches his arms. He doesn't seem to be in too much pain.

"Don't apologize, it's a sign of-"

And she turns around quickly, furiously, and pushes him against the wall again. This time, his back is against the wall, and her body crashes against his. She looks up into his eyes, as her hands travel to rest against his chest, furiously grasping the lapels of his jacket. She looks him straight in the eye and furiously shouts right in his face.

"I'm FUCKING sorry."

* * *

_So... tell me what you're thinking._


	5. Chapter 5

_20__th__ of March_

_**"Hello, this is Kate. Leave a message."**_

"_Hi honey. It's Rachel. Haven't… heard from you in a while. I just wanted to check up on you, see how are you are. I might come to D.C in a couple of weeks; work related things, as usual, but I wondered if I could maybe stay with you? [pause] Who am I kidding? Of course I can stay with you. Call me, honey."_

One push of a button, and the message is deleted. Kate feels no regret. She feels nothing.

_21__st__ of March_

"_Hi again. Rachel here. Call me. I know you're busy with work and that insomniac boss of yours, but I'm your sister. You have a family, remember? Call me."_

Something inside of her tears, a flicker of a feeling. _You have a family, remember?_ There is guilt and fear and a slowly burning longing, a longing for warmth. If only her sister knew… She wants her mother, she realizes. _Mama_. A tear rolls down her cheek. Kate sits at her kitchen island, perched on the bar stool, phone in hand. Her thumb travels across the numbers and buttons. Click, says the phone as she deletes the message.

"_Kate. [A long pause, a mix of breaths and background noises] It's Abby. I miss you. Come back soon. I would've visited you already if it weren't for Gibbs. You know how he is. [Pause] If you want me to come over… call, okay? Or text, just give me a sign. I don't care about boss-man and his stupid rules. Not when… [Deep inhale] Call me."_

The message from Abby scares Kate the most. The lively and happy Goth sounds nothing like her usual self. She sounds… hesitant. Kate tries to steady her breathing. No matter what she does, sleeps, showers, runs, watches TV, reads… nothing will give her peace. Everything is different. Even Abby.

_23__rd__ of March_

_"Hey Kate, it's Dwayne! [She can hear him smile] I was wondering if you'd like to maybe… grab a drink or something. Call me."_

_[beep]_

"_Kate. It's DiNozzo. I know I'm a jerk and you hate me and bla, bla, bla but… Call me. Or Abby. Or hell, even McGee. Just… let us know you're still alive, okay? The only one who's fairly normal around here's Ducky. And even he is weird… quiet. A quiet Ducky, Kate, can you even imagine? Uhhh, boss is coming… talk to ya la-"_

_[beep]_

"_Kate? [She freezes, because she never thought _he'd_ call.] I'm coming over."_

* * *

She shuffles around her small apartment in a poor attempt at tidying it up. It's the first time in days that she actually sees her small home, actually opens her eyes and looks at it. There are dirty clothes strewn across the floor in all rooms, wet towels hanging on the backs of chairs, cups of coffee and tea since long turned cold on the tables. She hasn't vacuumed the floors in weeks.

A knock on the door takes her back to reality. She crosses the room and opens the door.

"Hi Gibbs." She says, motioning for him to step inside, but he seems to have frozen in place at her doorstep. He looks at her long and hard but she has no idea what he sees.

She can smell him from where he stands and… he smells clean.

"When was the last time you showered, Kate?"

Kate's eyes widen in surprise. Showered? Why the hell does that matter?

She has no idea, really. A few days? A week? She has a vague feeling that she should feel a little offended, but she's not sure.

He shuffles past her, disappearing into her bathroom. She closes the door with a sigh, not really bothering to care what he's up to. She seats herself on her sofa and turns on the TV. She watches the screen, sees the colors and people, but she doesn't _see_.

Twenty minutes of staring off into space later, he is standing in front of her.

"Bathroom," He barks, "Now."

She lets him take her by the arm and lead the way. He gently pushes her into the small bathroom and she turns around to look at him with a puzzled look on her face.

His eyes are oh so soft, much softer than she has ever seen them, and his face is handsome and strong and strangely comforting. She looks up at him, not really sure what she's doing, why she is looking at him with such desperation. He takes her hand.

"I'm not leaving." He murmurs, as if he understood her fear when she herself didn't, and he lets go of her hand and closes the door in her face.

She becomes aware of her surroundings as she turns around. The bathroom is bathed in the light of candles placed about the small room: on the edge of the bathtub, on the bureau, on the toilet seat, by the mirror, everywhere soft candles flicker. The tub is filled with hot water and steam rises into the air. The smell of lavender reaches her nose, and she inhales deeply. The scene reminds her of herself, of what she always did after a particularly difficult case. Something inside of her jerks awake, some tiny part of herself she thought she had lost forever.

For the first time since what feels like years, a small, hesitant, fragile and almost invisible smile graces her lips.

She slowly takes off all her clothes and throws them into the laundry basket in the corner. She doesn't dare think but simply eases herself into the hot water, feeling the warmth wash away the confusion. It is like she is bathing in tender optimism, and she laughs at the sudden poetic use of words. The laughter echoes in the small space, and she relishes the sound, keeps on laughing, laughs until she can't breathe, laughs like she hasn't in weeks—

She shampoos her hair, letting it lather until her head is a big cloud of white bubbles.

She brushes her teeth; scrubs her body (with her favorite apple and green tea scrub); scrubs the soles of her feet until it tickles; shaves her legs, between her legs, underneath her arms.

She doesn't leave the tub until the water has become cold. She wraps the big fluffy towel which Gibbs must have left for her around herself and opens the bathroom door. The cold air sooths her limbs and skin; it feels refreshing. As her eyes travel around her living room and kitchen, her mouth opens, lips forming a small 'o'. Gibbs has tidied up. He is currently seated at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in his hands. He has discarded his coat, revealing a simple black pullover. She takes the seat opposite of him, where a cup stands, warm and dark. She takes a sip.

She isn't smiling anymore.

"Kate." He says, and she has come to detest the way he says her name now, like somehow her name has an underlying meaning which she should understand.

"Jethro," she says, teeth clenched together. His eyes widen slightly. She never uses his first name. No one does.

"You should call your sister." He says and tears begin to well in her eyes. She can't help it.

"I can't…" she whispers and she feels the fear, pain and loss swell inside of her, preventing her breathing.

He sighs patiently, "You know you have to, Kate."

He hands her his cellphone, "Call her." He whispers it like it's their secret, like the pain that is swelling inside of her somehow managed to grasp him as well.

She takes the phone, and slowly, slowly, she dials her sister's number.

* * *

**Dear readers! I am so sorry for taking so long to write this chapter. Hopefully you are not too angry with me. My only excuse for this huge delay in updating is the fact that... this story is hard to write and I, myself, have to work through loads of things in order to write something worth reading. This story means a lot to me and it is always in the back of my mind. All I can say is... these things take time, don't they? Everything does. Don't hesitate to leave feedback, it means a lot to me.**


End file.
